


Panic Room

by MildredMost



Series: Is This It [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Claustrophobia, Dubious Consent, Dubious Ethics, Hate Sex, M/M, Mind Games, POV Draco Malfoy, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 04:35:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6105086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MildredMost/pseuds/MildredMost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron Weasley and Draco Malfoy get trapped in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement during an attack drill. HOWEVER WILL THEY PASS THE TIME?</p><p> </p><p>  <i>“It’s just sex,” Draco repeated.</i><br/>“Malfoy, we hate each other.”<br/>“So what? I don’t think I’ve ever liked anyone I’ve had sex with.”<br/>“Well if you only shag Death Eaters that’s kind of a side effect.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Panic Room

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Melody_Jade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melody_Jade/gifts).



> I am so sorry this has taken me such ages to post - it got long!

Draco left the Wizengamot shaking with adrenaline. It had been the third trial he had been a witness at that month and it didn’t get any less hideous with familiarity. It had been Yaxley this time, cold dark eyes boring into him across the court, daring Draco to betray him. Sneering every time Draco did.

It was three years on from the Battle of Hogwarts but Draco felt like the fallout for him was never-ending. Having to relive everything over and over with every new trial, everyone watching, judging. Harry seemed to be at most of them too, and a selection of Weasleys. Not pleasant for any of them, he supposed. But at least they got to be in the right. He was just a turncoat and a weakling, offering sordid family secrets in return for a kind of freedom.   

As he walked along the corridor there was a sudden surge of people yelling and shouting and surrounding someone he couldn’t quite see. They overtook him and swallowed him into the crowd; he realised then that this was the Press and the person they were yelling at was Harry on his way out of the building.  And then his claustrophobia took over and he fought his way out of the press of bodies, heart hammering.

Slamming into the lift he took great shuddering breaths to calm himself. He’d never been claustrophobic before the War. But the terror of being shut in the Manor with Voldemort and Fenrir and even his own Aunt, and having to witness horrible, sick, disgusting things, had done something to him. He couldn’t travel by flue any more and even standing in this lift was a challenge. He had to be able to get away, he always had to know his escape route.

The lift was moving now, but too late Draco realised he didn’t know where it was going. For god’s sake. These panics were getting out of control, he’d have to get a grip, do something about it. Just another thing to try and sort out about himself.

The doors opened. “Department of Magical Law Enforcement”, it announced. Oh great, of all the floors to bloody...Draco stepped out, looked around.

There was Ron Weasley, lanky and redheaded as ever, striding down the room in his auror’s robes. Draco held his breath.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Ron said.

“I made a mistake,” said Draco. He’d forgotten how much taller Ron was than him. It was as disconcerting as his air of confidence and the way he seemed to have got all...competent.

Ron glared at Draco, then looked at his watch and sighed. “Oh for fuck’s sake.”

“What...”

And the lights went out.

“Oh this is just perfect,” said Ron, rolling his eyes. He sighed again.  “Come on then.” He tapped a panel in the wall, which slid aside, and beckoned to Draco.

Draco just looked at him. He couldn’t be serious. A siren started up from somewhere, filling his ears.

“Malfoy, move.”

When Draco didn’t, Ron took him by the wrist and tugged him into the tiny room the panel had revealed. It was a narrow space, barely tall enough to stand up in, lit with a couple of candles.

Draco stumbled to the corner, half crouched like an animal at bay, his hands pressed flat to the wall on either side of him. He closed his eyes against the dizziness that flooded over him.

“What’s happening? Are we being attacked?”

“Sit down. It’s a drill.”

Draco looked at him, his pupils blown with fear.

“How do you know?”

“I can’t tell you that,” Ron said, and closed the panel behind them. The sound of the siren was instantly muffled.

“How long will it last for?” Draco’s voice rose.

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Why do we have to...”

“I can’t tell you that, either.”

“Let me out.” Draco knew he was being ridiculous, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“Look,” said Ron, a little less abruptly. “We have to stay here while some stuff happens. I can’t tell you what. If you go out into the office they’ll cart you away to be interrogated.”

Draco felt a sweat break out all over him. He took some quick shallow breaths and covered his face with his hands.

“What’s wrong? Christ, I won’t hurt you,” said Ron, exasperated.

“I’m not afraid of _you_ , you prick,” said Draco.

He could feel the panic taking over. “ _I’m going to die, I’m going to die_ ,” one part of his mind told him, while another said “ _You’re not going to die but you are going mad_ ,” and oh the terror of either.

“Weasley,” he managed. “I have to get out,” he said, using all his strength not to crumble in front of him and start battering the door with his bare hands.

“You can’t. And if you break out I can’t protect you,” said Ron.

“Since when do you care about that?” said Draco.

“I suppose I don’t,” said Ron, and Draco gave a laugh that sounded like a sob. His heart thudding painfully in his chest now as the panic surged up again.

“It’s enclosed spaces. I can’t I... just please let me out. Or knock me out.”

“If only,” said Ron.

Draco started to kick at the door.

“Stop, will you?” Ron said, grabbing him. “There’s a spell I could...but it’s really not supposed…”

“I’m going to be sick,” said Draco, who wasn’t, but was willing to try anything.

“Jesus.” Ron grabbed him by the front of his shirt and held his wand to Draco’s temple.

“You’re going to feel high for a moment. You’ll probably say something weird, it’s ok, I’ll ignore it.”

“Just... _oh.”_  Oh. Draco felt a shiver erupt over his entire body; a tingling, cold, wonderful sensation traveling through every part of him. Then the euphoria rose up, his face splitting into a smile, an irresistible bubble of laughter wriggling up through him.

“Weasley,” he said. “You’re so. You’re so beautiful. Your eyes are so blue. I want to kiss your…”

Ron clapped a hand over Draco’s mouth. “Fucking hell Malfoy.” Draco tried to twist away but Ron held him tightly. “Listen for a minute will you. We’re only supposed to use this in extreme circumstances. It calms you down but sometimes it can take your inhibitions away, do you know what that means?”

Draco rolled his eyes but nodded.

“I can _Silencio_ you to stop you saying anything you don’t want me to hear.”

Draco took a couple of deep breaths. The delicious high was fading away but he still felt incredible. For the first time in years he felt no anxiety at all.

“No. Don’t bother Weasley, you’d probably only mess it up.”

“It only lasts about half an hour,” said Ron, ignoring the jibe. “We use it on people we’re arresting who’re freaking out, usually.”

“That must be handy for getting a confession out of people,” said Draco. “Very ethical.”

Ron didn’t respond, but sat down with his back against the wall and undid the collar of his robes. It was getting a little warm in the tiny hiding space. Draco looked at Ron’s long legs and his red hair (which he obviously got cut properly now and not just hacked at by his mother) and felt even hotter.

“You’re not handsome, exactly, are you Weasley,” he heard himself say before he could stop. “But there’s definitely something about you.”

So this was what it was like to have absolutely no filter between your brain and your mouth.

“The offer of _Silencio_ is still available, just so you know,” said Ron mildly. Draco half smiled at him; Ron was being terribly professional. Not a hint of the usual volcanic temper he used to trigger in him at school. Maybe he’d poke him a bit, see what happened.

“I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here,” Draco said, sitting down too and shrugging off his coat.

“I know why you’re here, the trial for Yaxley starts today. I’m a witness in that one, too. Haven’t been called yet though.”

“Oh.” Of course he would be. He patted his pocket for his wand, forgetting he didn’t have it.

“You still not allowed a wand then?” asked Ron.

“Not on Ministry premises.” Usually Draco felt humiliated by this, but not just now with this calm serenity inside him. And Weasley wasn’t mocking him, at least. He was just observing Draco in a neutral sort of way. A very _blue-eyed_ neutral sort of way.

“They’re going to reassess once all the trials are over. And I’m supposed to apologise to everyone I caused harm to while I was...” Draco stopped.

“A baby Death Eater?” said Ron.

Draco wrapped his fingers around his forearm.

“That where it was? The Mark?”

Draco said nothing.

“Feel free to go ahead and apologise then,” said Ron. “We’ll be here a while.”

“Well, I’m sorry.”

“How heartfelt.”

“Shut up Weasley you...you dickhead.” Ron started to laugh.

“‘Dickhead?’ That’s a bit muggle of you Draco. What happened to ‘filthy blood traitor’ and all that?”

“I try not to call people that any more,” said Draco. Ron stared at him until Draco looked away.

“Well. I’ll let you know if I ever feel like forgiving you,” said Ron. He huffed the hair off of his forehead and Draco noticed how it caught the light. The temperature in there wasn’t getting any more comfortable.  With a sidelong look at Draco, Ron undid a few more buttons and took off the Auror robe altogether. His t-shirt clung to his chest and Draco caught his breath. Dressed in clothes that actually fitted him and weren’t made of lumpen scratchy wool, Ron had quite a body.

And suddenly, what he wanted more than anything was to feel it against his. He _had_ to. He felt himself tremble with the anticipation of it. He thought briefly about the charm, about Ron’s warning, then dismissed it. He’d always had a bit of a thing for Weasley, enjoyed winding him up and seeing him lose his temper. He’d just always been so scruffy and awful before; obsessed with Harry and so _Gryffindor_ that Draco couldn’t even contemplate doing anything about it.

But what did it matter anyway, now. What was wrong with wanting to do something and just doing it? And he definitely wanted this.

He looked directly into Ron’s eyes.

“Do you want me to grovel?” he said. “I could get on my knees. Beg you.”

“Shut up.”

“I could...crawl.” Draco moved towards Ron on his hands and knees. Not so much a crawl as a prowl.

“Fucking stop it,” Ron said, not taking his eyes off Draco. Not moving away either.

Draco place a hand either side of Ron’s thighs and leant forward.

“Please, Ron,” he said, tilting his head to one side and biting his lip. “What can I do?”

“Not this,” said Ron.

“Something else then.” Draco lowered his gaze to Ron’s mouth, then back up to Ron’s eyes again. Ron swallowed.

“Malfoy…” he croaked. “This is the charm making you do this. You can’t...you shouldn’t touch me.”

“Perhaps I won’t,” Draco murmured in Ron’s ear, still hovering over him. He let his hair fall forward and brush against Ron’s cheek. “Have you ever come without being touched?”

“Wh...what?”

“Dolahov used to make me do it,” said Draco, his mouth almost, but not touching, Ron’s ear and Ron shivered. “He lived with us for a while. My father told him he wasn’t to touch me; he knew what he was like. So he’d corner me and…”

“What?” Ron whispered.

“He’d tell me to unfasten my fly then put my hands behind me. Make me bend over a table with my cock pressed against it. He wouldn’t kiss me, wouldn’t touch me, just stand over me telling me what he wanted to do to me. I would get _so_ fucking hard…”

“Malfoy, you can’t want me to know this. Stop.” Ron’s voice was uneven.

“He wouldn’t give up, either,” continued Draco, ignoring him.  “He’d keep me there, whispering to me, his breath on me. “Filthy leetle thing,” he would call me. That voice of his. “I’m going to lick you open,” and “You’ll look at me when you come, like a good boy.” And I’d come, just when he told me to. I always would, against the table. And then he’d laugh at me.”

Ron shifted, brought his hand to his mouth and bit down on the pad of his thumb. “You are so fucked up.”

“Bet you’re hard though,” said Draco. “Aren’t you Weasley?”

Ron said nothing, just closed his eyes, his pale lashes contrasting with the freckles on his cheeks. Fuck, Draco wanted him.

What if he just...just pushed a little. A tiny bit of Legilimency. Only to see what he was thinking right this second.  He would be subtle. Just a peek...

... _there was Potter, shirt off, turning over in bed towards...no, I’m looking for myself, for...there I am in the school corridor, face snarled up with hatred, Ron noticing my mouth, my throat. And there I am again, mark of Hermione’s hand flaming on my cheek. The nape of my neck as I work on a potion. In Quidditch robes, flying. Swimming in the lake...I’m everywhere. God if I’d known. If…_

“Fuck _off!”_

Draco fell backwards as Ron shoved him to the floor and straddled him.

“Get out of my head. OUT.”

“I’m...I’m out. I’m out.”

“Malfoy you…” Ron panted, looking more frightened than angry. “You can’t do wandless magic here, there are about forty foe detectors that’ll...shit.” He lifted his wand, muttered words.

Draco took deep breaths as his cock hardened in his trousers, trapped between Ron’s thighs.

“I know I fucked up your inhibitions but you’ve got to try and not be a complete arsehole,” Ron said, looking down at him again.

“Ron. I saw…”

“I know what you saw. Bloody hell Malfoy, I was a teenager. I could get turned on looking at the Whomping Willow for god’s sake.”

“And looking at me,” Draco persisted and watched as Ron blushed red.

“So what?”

Draco pressed a hand to the front of Ron’s jeans and felt the satisfying heat of his erection. Ron breathed out hard but didn’t move.

“You shouldn’t touch me. You’re not…” Ron’s voice failed him as Draco pressed harder.

“You started it,” said Draco and popped the button of Ron’s jeans with his other hand. He slowly tugged the zip of Ron’s jeans down, releasing the swell of his cock against his underwear. Ron let out a quiet moan then grabbed Draco’s hand.

“No,” he said. “It’s not right.”

“But I _want_ to,” Draco said, aware he sounded like a petulant child. “I want you. I don’t see why I can’t have you.”

Ron got off Draco and sat back down on the floor abruptly.

“It’s just sex, Weasley. You’re not with someone are you? You and Potter…?”

“No,” snapped Ron, his blue eyes sparking with anger suddenly. Sore spot.

“It’s just sex,” Draco repeated.

“Malfoy, we hate each other.”

“So what? I don’t think I’ve ever liked anyone I’ve had sex with.”

“Well if you only shag Death Eaters that’s kind of a side effect.”

“You should try it,” said Draco. “I might not be one any more, but I still fuck like one.”

“What does that even _mean._ You talk so much shit, I... _”_

Draco, bored of waiting, leant forward and kissed him. Ron pulled back for a second, but Draco had a hand on the back of Ron’s neck and another wrapped in the front of his t-shirt, and Ron wasn’t resisting now, not really. He broke away to drag Ron’s t-shirt over his head, and managed to get his own clothes off before starting on Ron’s, stopping to palm him through his underwear, feel the length of him, before yanking those off too.  All the while he couldn’t stop talking, couldn’t shut up.

“I want you inside me,” he heard himself say. “You’re so big, never thought you’d be this big.” And oh fuck he hadn’t meant to tell Ron he was big, the stupid arsehole. But he was, my god.  His cock was pressed against Draco’s stomach as Draco straddled him, grinding against him.  To stop himself talking he began kissing Ron with a slow, hot intensity that made Ron arch up and moan into his mouth, his large hands grabbing at Draco’s arms, his waist, his arse.

“Put your fingers in me. As many as you can fit. _Hurry_.” Draco couldn’t stop himself demanding things, sounding desperate. He couldn't find it in him to care. 

He could feel Ron messing with his wand behind him, then felt the cool of lube against him, as one of Ron’s long fingers stroked inside him. He rocked back onto it, groaning “more,” in Ron’s ear and feeling Ron press another finger then another inside him. God he felt like he could come from just this; the length of Ron’s fingers, the drag of his cock against Ron’s stomach.

“Ron,” Draco panted. “Tell me I’m filthy. Tell me how you hate me, how you... _fuck.”_

“Shut up. I’m not saying that,” said Ron, beginning to fuck his fingers in and out of Draco, opening him. Draco let out a laugh and sucked on Ron’s bottom lip, pulling at his red hair to tilt his head back. Ron moaned and pushed his tongue into Draco’s mouth, taking his fingers away from Draco to pull him closer. Draco reached around and grabbed Ron’s cock, he couldn’t wait any longer. Lining himself up, he lowered himself onto it. God, he didn’t know if he could take him, he’d have to go slow.

“What would your precious Potter say if he could see what you were doing right now?” Draco murmured into Ron’s hair as he felt the head of Ron’s cock push inside him and Ron start to breath hard.

“Stop being such a dick Malfoy,” said Ron hoarsely. Draco could sense that he was holding back with everything he had not to jerk his hips up against Draco just now, push himself right in. Typical Gryffindor, being all self-sacrificing.

“He’d think you had gone mad,” he said, sinking down another inch onto Ron. “ _God_. Or how about brother George, what would he…” Draco found himself being lifted roughly off Ron and slammed against the floor.

“Shut the fuck up about him,” Ron said, face furious, hand at Draco’s neck. Draco almost came then and there. He wrapped his legs around Ron’s waist and pulled him down, abstractly noticing that Ron had freckles in the most unexpected places.

“He would hate you for doing this,” Draco said, taking Ron’s cock and pressing it back inside himself. With a helpless gasp Ron pushed in deeper.

“There’s something wrong with you, Malfoy,” he said. “You’re sick.”

In answer Draco pushed back on him. “Punish me then. Hurt me if you like,” he said. “I like it.” He knew it was the spell making him say these things but he couldn’t stop himself, and they were true anyway, and the look on Ron’s face was worth it.

“Piss off,” muttered Ron and began fucking Draco slowly and silently, not looking at him. Draco should have known Ron wouldn’t be noisy, had probably done all his shagging at school with a hand clamped over his mouth or face pressed into a pillow to avoid being discovered. Draco was used to the grunts and moans of Yaxley banging away at him from behind, or Dolahov’s filthy running commentary, or the way Blaize would pull his hair and pant and yell when he came.

This slow, relentless fuck was something different altogether. Ron was big enough that it was hard for Draco to take him; the pain from being stretched around him was just on the right side of good, and somehow Draco managed to hold his tongue and not tell Ron that he was hurting him or how good it felt, and how hard it was making him, because he’d probably fucking stop. The length of his thighs lifted Draco up with every thrust, pushing his cock deeper, pressing against his prostate, driving him mad.

“Touch me, stroke my... _oh_...my cock.” Draco said.

“Touch yourself,” said Ron dismissively, increasing his rhythm. The fucker. Draco obeyed and began to stroke himself, unable to help the loud moans that came from him. He was almost over the edge, he could feel himself start to clamp down on Ron, balls tight, cock like iron in his hand but he couldn’t quite...he couldn’t let himself...he had always been told _when_ before.

“Tell me,” panted Draco, “Tell me I can come.”  Ron ignored him, hair damp with sweat, lips parted with concentration.

“Weasley, _please_ just say it. I can’t...”

Ron looked down at him. “I don’t give a fuck if you come or not,” he said, pushing Draco’s knees back almost to his shoulders and thrusting so deep into him that Draco couldn’t breathe. And oh, that was all he needed, being so _used_ and so fucking...he came instantly all over himself, head thrown back, making a ridiculous amount of noise even for him.

“Draco. Look at me. I...” Ron said and Draco managed to drag his eyes open long enough to watch Ron come, blue eyes looking into his, face vulnerable and open as he slammed into Draco. And then _oh, fuck_ , he let Draco’s legs go and leant down and kissed him, cock still buried deep in him. Draco had never cared much for touching someone after he’d come, but these kisses were so hot, and slow and intense that he felt he could get hard all over again.

Ron stopped at last, rolling away and Draco lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. He could feel his anxiety sliding back into his head, the self-loathing, the endless overthinking. The charm had worn off. Business as usual.  

Ron had sat up and was dressing again.

“Do I take it I’m forgiven then?” Draco said. He meant it to sound like a joke but it came out as a plea. Fuck’s sake.

“Yes Malfoy. The fact that you sided with the guy trying to kill us all, stood by while Hermione was tortured, let Death Eaters into Hogwarts, it’s all cool now you’ve shagged me.” Ron shrugged on his robes, flung a casual ‘ _scourgify_ ’ Draco’s way.

“Oh,” said Draco, sitting up himself. “Just fuck _off_. You...Have you ever done something that your parents hated, Weasley? You’ve never had to even try. You were on the right side all along, lucky you. Yes, everything we thought was wrong. But to go against my whole family…”

“Sirius managed it.”

“See how well that worked out for him. Well I’m paying the price now, don’t worry. And my parents are...they’re so weak. Changed.  Your parents are proud of you, nothing changed for…”

“Nothing changed? My... _brother_ ,” Ron’s voice broke on the word and he stopped.

“Fuck,” said Draco, hating himself, hating everything. He began pulling on his clothes.  “Let’s not.”

Ron nodded a curt agreement. The silence lengthened but Ron didn't seem angry, only sad.

“Siren’s stopped,” said Draco eventually. Ron gave a half smile.

“It stopped a while ago, actually.”

“Oh, really.”

“Around about the time you were coming all over yourself because I’m so extremely hot,” Ron continued.

“Don’t flatter yourself. The last person I slept with was Yaxley.”

“Oh my god, Malfoy. What is actually wrong with you?” said Ron and opened the door to their hiding place.

Draco climbed out, pulled his coat on. “So,” he said. That was that, then. 

“You back tomorrow? For Yaxley I mean. The trial.”

“I suppose.” He looked at Ron, bit his lip.

“Me too. You want to…” Ron paused. “You want to go out after? Get absolutely fucking hammered?”

“Yes.” said Draco. He’d never felt so sure of anything in his life. “I absolutely do."

“Right,” said Ron. “See you then.” He turned and disappeared into the Department without a backward glance.


End file.
